


you've got your claws buried deep

by amrita (rwbyfics)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwbyfics/pseuds/amrita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fe·ral - (especially of an animal) in a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got your claws buried deep

Annie pressed her palm against the hilt of the wooden knife, curled her fingers against the sanded blade. Training had been slow; two trainees had approached to challenge her, and she’d disarmed them in two seconds and left them wheezing in the dust. One was still trying to recuperate while Annie sat under the shade of a tree and waited for the hour to let up.

Eren was splayed on his back with Mikasa’s boot pressed loosely against his throat. He’d let go of his fake knife; Mikasa hadn’t even bothered to kick it away. It wasn’t an oversight on her part, she was smart enough to know that Eren accepted defeat as soon as he hit the ground.

Mikasa looked taller than usual in the midday sunlight, the heavy red scarf around her neck thrown slightly off center by the shift of her chest. Her dark hair fell in soft fringes around her cheeks, softening the dramatic curve of her cheek and pressed against the top of her pulse.

Annie spun the knife across her finger and dragged it through the soft dirt by her feet, sinking it to its etched base. She watched intently as Mikasa helped Eren up and picked up the knife to switch their offensive and defensive positions. Mikasa’s form was immaculate when she surged forward, with her hands laced across the hilt and raised to the side of her throat.

The speed that she moved at was other-worldly, and she nearly swung Eren around before crushing him back to the ground, the knife resting against the hollow of his throat. Even from a few yards away, Annie could hear him curse.

Mikasa stood again and adjusted her scarf idly, blinked over the scarlet barrier and met Annie’s eye. They stared at each other for a minute before Mikasa nodded once and turned her back on Annie.

Annie lifted the knife and dusted off the dirt and silt. She wondered what Mikasa would look like at knifepoint, a silver dagger held symmetrically even to her unwavering gaze. She wondered if anyone could even immobilize Mikasa to that point.

Annie huffed a dark breath and fixed her grip to a throwing form.

The thought of Mikasa rendered helpless under the threat of a blade at her throat seemed laughable. Unless there was a god holding the knife, Mikasa was seemingly indomitable. She was a wildfire that was only contained by her own self-control.

Annie wondered what it would take for her to break.

*

Mikasa ran her fingers along the inside of her sleeve for a moment, hangnails catching on the downy threads of the fabric. Early morning dawn wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before; she’d always been an earlier riser and had an expansive catalogue of the sunrises that she’d seen in all of her days.

This one was muddy, all thick grey clouds settling along the horizon with lazy strands of sunshine bleeding through. It was ugly, Mikasa thought soberly, hands stuttering in her pockets. She didn’t mind, though. The knotted scars on her hands were ugly, the keloid tissue running down her forearms were ugly, the blossoming orchid-flower bruises on her ribs were ugly, but she liked them. They were signs of her strength.

The morning chill bit through her coat and top, sent her nerve endings into overload and forced her body to shudder to conserve body heat.

“You’re up.”

Mikasa turned abruptly, shoulders already straightening into a severe line in case any training officers were patrolling early. Instead, it was Annie, standing in profile with her chin jutted slightly to the sun. Her hair was up in its signature knot, a few strands falling by her eyes and cutting across the pale green collar of her jacket.

Annie was unforgivingly sharp in all of her features, from crystalline eyes to lantern jaw to the razorblade planes of her nose and cheekbones. There was no gentle curl to her hair; it was dull blonde and straight, forced to stay up against its limp tendencies. The curve of her hip and waist was nonexistent; her body was made up of all nonyielding muscle and bone that seemed to jab into Mikasa’s ribs and sternum every time they sparred.

“So are you.”

Annie’s mouth remained even as she observed the sparse cloud coverage spread evenly across the skyline. Her hands were already bound, neat layers of cotton bandage tucked and twisted expertly around the knobby, swollen fists by her side.

“It won’t be another hour until your brother wakes up.” Annie said blandly. Every conversation that Annie had willingly participated in was factual and succinct, and though many of the other trainees were put off by her nature, Mikasa appreciated Annie for her complete disinvolvement.

After all, if Eren and Armin weren’t in the picture, Mikasa and Annie would be the same person, sitting in the corner with their mouths shut for their own good.

“I decided to go for a run.” Mikasa glanced back at Annie’s hands. “It seems you have other ideas.” Annie met eyes with Mikasa for the first time since their encounter. Her eyes were so heavily lidded that she looked like she was in a constant state of sleep deprivation. From her labored breathing and tossing and turning at night, Mikasa could see this as a truth rather than the effects of a physical trait.

Annie shrugged.

“Didn’t you break one of your fingers? The medic told you to keep away from hand to hand.” Mikasa didn’t understand why she was furthering their conversation. They had never gone past a few polite hellos or the awkward stillness when they met eyes across the dining room once in a while.

Annie stared at Mikasa strangely, as if trying to suss out the intention of Mikasa’s speech. She looked down at her fingers in their bandages - a strand of blond hair fell across her eye when she did - and spoke slowly.

“Asking me not to participate in hand-to-hand is asking me not to defend myself if I’m being attacked by a Titan.” Annie chuckled, a noise that came from low in her throat. “Besides, don’t they say that a broken bone heals quicker if you break it even more?”

Mikasa was shaken by the foreign noise of Annie’s laugh. It was obvious that it was a sound rarely put to use or practiced from the way that it rasped with gravel and grit. The two stood there for a few moments, watched the sun slide out of a languid pocket of the sky and twist restlessly before the wind chill picked back up and made Mikasa shiver.

"Shouldn't you be training?" Mikasa asked suddenly. The few minutes without the flat, hollow space of Annie’s voice to linger in were painful, to say the least. Mikasa, who lived in a state in silence, felt unnaturally talkative, or at least the urge to be, around Annie.

Annie with the sharp eyes and sharper bones and thin lips and straight knitted brows. Annie was an enigma and a danger, and Mikasa felt uncertain whenever they met eyes. Annie was a still moment in the turning and passing world around them.

"Shouldn't you be running?"

Mikasa huffed out a breath thick as fog into the air and crossed her arms across her chest. Annie made a motion to cut off the conversation and started to turn away, but Mikasa stepped forward and brushed away one stray strand of hair behind Annie's ear.

Annie looked up at her, cheeks blazing warm and limbs seizing into rigid stone. She'd been seconds away from recoiling away from the touch; Mikasa found that sad for some reason, but chose to ignore it.

She whispered, "Take care of your hand," and took off in the other direction, sneakers gaining traction against the rough dirt road.

*

Annie paused in the bathroom mirror as she combed her hair down to her shoulders. She always felt vain when she stood in front of her reflection - there wasn’t much to look at anyways - and forced herself to quash the fear of her own likeness. Her father had never allowed her small moments of female vanity, not when she could be turning the lush, womanly valley of her body into a tundra of inflexible and resolute muscle.

Her thin cotton shirt clung to a few spots near her waist and back from the remnants of her shower. There was a bruise flowering above her hipbone where her sleep pants sat low; the 3DMG had smacked her when she had been sent out on a mock mission amongst the treetops. It hurt to touch, even with the slightest caress of her shirt against the mottled flesh.  

“Annie.”

Annie looked up, eyes bright with concern. She felt embarrassed at having been found looking at herself; it was a crime, a small infraction that she couldn’t allow herself. It took her off guard when people called her by her first name.

Her first name was never an endearment, it was the predecessor to her father’s fist knocking her to the ground, to a verbal berating. Her surname, however, was set before or after a command or an order or a reprimand. She preferred the bark of Leonhardt to the quiet, calm rumble of Annie.

Mikasa stood at the doorway of the bathroom, dressed for bed in grey cotton and a loose top. She looked concerned for Annie, which sent a flare of disdain through Annie’s stomach. Annie arched her brow and met eyes with Mikasa in the mirror, waiting for her to continue.

“Are you going to be up early tomorrow as well?”

“Why do you ask?” Annie was curious. Mikasa had never made an attempt to befriend her, but the moment in the morning - Mikasa’s hand by the angle of her cheek, settling her hair behind her ear, with their skin barely touching and Annie trying to keep her breathing under control - that was far from friendship.

Or at least what Annie had seen of friendship. She’d never had friends.

“Spar with me.” Mikasa wasn’t asking; she was politely demanding, and Annie furrowed her brows. “We haven’t been paired up for a while during training.” Annie blinked, trying not to stay silent for too long. Letting Mikasa stun her into silence was letting take the upper hand.  

“Fine.”

Mikasa smiled with half of her mouth. The faint curl of her pale pink lips was fleeting and fast. Annie had never seen her smile fully before; it was either half or nothing, which seemed to be the only thing that Mikasa refrained from fully committing to.

“Good.” Mikasa leaned against the doorway before leaving and glanced at Annie with something different flickering in her eyes. “You look pretty, Annie.” Mikasa left swiftly and Annie was alone again, shivering because of the look in Mikasa’s dark, thick-lashed eyes.

It was hunger there, lying in Mikasa’s pupils, barely concealed and burning hot..

*

Mikasa didn’t know how much power Annie had at her disposal, which left her at a disadvantage. Annie was small, compact muscle and tensile nerve endings snapping as tight as piano wires. Mikasa had watched her fight before, and it was nothing short of jarring, to see placidly pale eyes twist in an overwhelming urge to break and snap and conquer.

So when Annie showed up in the field, blinking away sleep and still wrapping up her left hand, Mikasa shivered, slightly nervous. She could blame it on the early morning chill, the scarce heat of the covered sun, the lingering low light of the moon. One thing she couldn’t blame it on was the hooded shadow of Annie’s bone-shattering eyes.

Annie stretched for a few minutes and stripped off her jacket, tossing it on top of Mikasa’s. Mikasa appraised her - slight, muscular, sharp edged, _yawning_ \- and ran her thumb along the tops of her wrapped knuckles.

“Ready?” Mikasa asked, forming loose fists. Annie popped her neck and nodded, knuckles framing her face in a trestle of pale skin and jutting bones. They circled each other tentatively before Mikasa jabbed towards Annie’s shoulder to test the waters.

Annie stayed low, let the blow glance off of her lightly, and countered with a hit towards Mikasa’s ribs. Mikasa hissed - Annie had hit her exactly where her freshest bruise was, and the pain lanced through her heatedly. Her footing faltered slightly, but before she could center her gravity, Annie moved fast and aimed a left hook for Mikasa’s jaw.

The impact was bruising.

Mikasa had expected for most of Annie’s power to be in her legs and core, not in the straight, thin flesh of her arms. Annie knew how to lean into her punches, unfortunately, and the rattling of Mikasa’s skull barely settled before she had time to duck Annie’s second punch and dig her elbow under her bony shoulder blade.

Annie fought too low, Mikasa noted. She had nearly fallen to the dirt from the pressure that Mikasa had aimed against her top rib, but got in a blow to Mikasa’s sternum before withdrawing, fists up and stance light again. Her eyes were burning determinedly. She came alive during a fight, and it was terrifying how single minded she became.

She had one thing on her mind: knocking Mikasa to the ground and keeping her there.

Mikasa lunged forward, fist traveling in a cross towards Annie. There was a crunch of bone against bone, and blood dribbled down the side of Annie’s face, falling in a steady stream from her nose. She hadn’t even made a noise of discomfort. Annie’s body had absorbed the blow for her concentration.

They continued to circle each other, and when Annie telegraphed her next move, Mikasa ducked. The jab transitioned smoothly to a fake thought, and Annie drove her fist into Mikasa’s ribcage so hard that Mikasa could practically taste the outline of her thumb along with the rest of her fingers. She saw stars when the pain didn’t relent - she just kept going - and reached out, fumbling with Annie’s thin little throat, searched for her pulse to keep her from puncturing her lung with one of her bones.

Annie was too small to wrangle her way out of Mikasa’s grip, not when she drove her knee into the soft flesh between the two wings of Annie’s ribcage. Annie wheezed at that and Mikasa snarled at the first noise she had made throughout their battle. Mikasa shoved Annie to the ground - blood in her mouth was always synonymous with a victory - and would have won if not for Annie’s elbow piercing the soft space under her jaw.

Annie clawed her way out from underneath Mikasa, knuckles scrabbling against her hips and throwing her off. Annie was too fast; she had Mikasa pinned by her hands while she was still trying to blink the blurry edges out of her vision.

Mikasa looked up at Annie, bleeding, dirty, every breath punching out of her lungs. She and Annie fought alike, Mikasa thought faintly.

They both fought like they were fighting for their lives. They would do anything to win. The blood that painted Annie’s jawline seemed like warpaint, something sacrificial and primal for the monstrous thing in her veins that she unleashed when she fought.

Annie was ferocious and filthy and beastly, and her eyes of flint were disappearing under the hood of her lids faster than usual as she tried to normalize her breathing pattern. She was taming the animal again, Mikasa knew, she was forcing it back into its cage and trying to appease it with fresh blood.

Mikasa knew. She knew the struggle to keep her hands from snapping necks, to forcefully draw the line between sparring and murder. She knew that the anger inside of her shouldn’t be howling as forcefully as it was now, as if attracted to the same fury in Annie, magnetizing them together. She knew that a mouth painted with blood should never be attractive, no matter how pale the lips were to begin with.

Mikasa surged forward, hands gripping Annie by the jaw and pulling her down to her mouth. Their first kiss forwent any form of affection or delicacy, because those words would never belong to them. Their teeth crashed first, then the ravenous heat of their tongues, twisting in tandem as mouths struggled to consume everything all at once.

Annie kissed like she fought, bloody and brutal, or maybe that was just how she kissed Mikasa - like she was dying to drink her down and swallow her whole. She gripped Mikasa by the shoulders, knotted her hands in the blood-stained cotton of her top and pulled Mikasa closer, closer, closer until their heat was pressing together and Annie was panting into the kiss, lips parted to search for a breath.

Mikasa forced Annie to bare her throat and bit a mark into the skin above her pulse, felt the other girl shudder and shake above her, hiss out a curse and grip her by the throat as well. This was how they always were, grappling for power in all aspects of their lives, but together, they were vile, desperate for control that they were unwilling to surrender.

*

Annie dragged Mikasa back up for another kiss, equally scathing in nature. She twisted her fingers into dark strands of hair, reveled in the moan of pain that Mikasa spit out, almost disdainfully. Blood spread between them, crawling into the cracks of fingertips and into the dip of Annie’s collarbones.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Annie growled, snapped her teeth at Mikasa’s bottom lip. Mikasa arched into her and draped her hand across the nape of Annie’s neck like a brand.

“Do you?” Mikasa shot back, tongue licking a path across the hollow of Annie’s throat. Annie laughed, rough and dark again, and Mikasa shivered despite herself. The noise was too much for her to take, with Annie pressed flush against her.

Annie pressed her hands to Mikasa’s neck, sought out every vein and traced it with her fingernail, scraped across it until raised red lines striped pale skin. The scratches took root in the crimson knot of Mikasa’s scarf.

Annie looped her fingers in the scarf and tugged Mikasa away from her neck so that they could look at each other face to face. Mikasa was flushed, spotted in Annie’s blood, with a mouth so full and wounded that Annie was almost apologetic for what she had done.

“Don’t do anything you won’t regret.” Annie said throatily, tightening her grip on the scarf so that Mikasa didn’t have any choice but to give Annie her full attention. “Either you bite down, knowing full well who I am, or you leave right now.”

It was Mikasa’s turn to laugh now, reaching to tangle her fingers with Annie’s at her throat. She was giving herself over fully; she was yielding for the second time that day.

“Bite down. That’s what you want me to do?” Mikasa asked. Annie arched a brow, eyes locked on the girl held at her mercy under her. Mikasa smiled slyly, half of her mouth parting again into a smile. She leaned forward, laid her mouth against the taut juncture of skin where Annie’s shoulder met her neck and buried her teeth into the treasure trove of flesh until she was sure that a mark would form.

It was a base, feral motion, a primal claim on another, but whatever demon inside of Annie was pleased enough with it, with Mikasa laying her throat bare in the middle of a training field and ripping her to shreds between her claws. It preferred Mikasa’s sacrifice anyways, it always preferred anything more animalistic than the scrapings from a fight, so Mikasa bit down to relieve Annie of the monster inside of her, if only for a few minutes, if only for an eternity.

 

 

 

 

 ****  
  



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